


Quick Pull

by madam_minnie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-16
Updated: 2007-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madam_minnie/pseuds/madam_minnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is always there to save Sammy… What are big brothers for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Pull

**Author's Note:**

> This bunny slapped me in the face while in the shower and just wouldn't let go. Thanks to dream_wia_dream for the beta.

The Wendigo’s trail had grown cold and it was Sammy’s fault. Sam, who could track a tiny creature through the biggest cities across America, was slipping. Dean couldn’t understand what was making his little brother fidgety, nervous and sloppy. It just wasn’t Sam.

 

Slamming the empty beer bottle on the bar, he threw a wad of bills to cover the tab. Winking at the busty blonde behind the counter, he emptied the nut bowl and walked out. He wasn’t drunk, but he was at least numb enough to deal with the upcoming conversation with his little brother. Sam was going to shape up or Dean was just going to have to beat some sense into him.

 

Stumbling through the motel door, Dean twirled quickly as it slammed behind him. With a jerk, he pointed his gun at the slightly swaying room.

 

_He wasn’t drunk. The door just needed to stay still so he could focus._

 

He stared blankly at the room around him: the twin beds, the lurid purple shag carpet and Sammy at the edge of his bed with a towel on his lap. Yep, this was his room.

 

_Whoa… Sam? Towel? _

Surveying the room a second time, he smiled devilishly at his little brother. Dean cocked one eyebrow gesturing to the bedside table where the hand lotion and tissues sat.

 

“How’s it coming?” he asked impishly.

 

“Fine,” Sam replied with a non-committal shrug, flipping the pages of the magazine in his hand. “Any new leads on the Wendigo?”

 

Dean walked around the bed, tucking the 44 in his waistband. “Well, you know how these things just… come and go…” he said lifting the magazine to read the cover.

 

“_Field and Stream_?” He asked with a grin, stifling a giggle as Sam pulled the magazine from his hand. Sam stood, dashing from the room, brushing past him, holding the towel firmly against his midsection.

 

“Nice ass, little bro’!”

 

~*~

 

Sam had spent weeks trying to get past Jessica’s death. Months after her death, he continued to mourn the woman he had planned to marry. It was normal to feel this way, he kept telling himself; to feel lost, confused, sluggish, and…pent-up.

 

He’d not ‘let one go’, as Dean had so beautifully put it, since the night before Jess was taken. He ached for release but his body wouldn’t cooperate. When the quick tugs before bed didn’t work, he’d spent days researching. Nothing had helped. And he was even more frustrated than before.

 

Normally, Sam wouldn’t care. He could set his sexual urges aside… unlike Dean. Dean who used the head below his shoulders more often than the other. Even so, Sam couldn’t deny that he wasn’t safe. His visions were less cohesive, he was constantly stumbling or fidgeting. Yesterday, when the Wendigo had attacked and he’d had a clear shot…

 

~*~

 

“_Shoot it Sam!” Dean hollered from the ground, the snarling beast inches from his face. He was pinned, Sam had a clear shot. With the sawed-off shotgun in hand, Sam cleared his mind, stepped forward and took aim at the hairy beast’s back. _

_“SHOOT! SAMMY!”_

 

_The shot went wide. So far off the mark it hadn’t come near the monster. It had scared the Wendigo off, but not before Dean caught a claw to his chest._

 

“_What the hell was that?” Dean asked, grimacing as he refused Sam’s help to stand._

 

“_Just didn’t have the shot,” Sam lied._

 

“_She was three fucking feet away from you Sammy, there’s never gonna be a better shot!”_

_ Dean kicked the chair across the room, ignoring the clatter as it hit the opposite wall. _

_“You listen to me, Sam. You need to get your head on straight before we both end up dead!”_

 

~*~

 

Sitting on the toilet with the towel still draped across his lap, Sam sighed as he slipped his hand under the terry cloth. His flaccid cock was cold, limp and spent… as withered as he was. “It’s no use,” he sighed wrapping the towel around his hips before stepping back into the main room.

 

Dean was lying on the bed, still fully clothed. His fingers laced behind his head as he pretended to watch TV. The stench of alcohol only barely overpowered by the scent of stale cigarette smoke. He whistled and catcalled as Sam made his way toward his bed. Shaking his head, Sam climbed back into his bed.

 

“Hope everything came out alright,” Dean said smugly.

 

_It was going to be a long night._

 

~*~

 

The lead from Ash was the best they’d had in days and Dean was itching to finally get this beast behind them. The usually cool-headed Sam, was sniping at him constantly, fidgeting in the chair more than usual. Dean could tell Sam was… hard-up. He needed to get laid. More than once, Dean had offered to hook him up with the busty blonde, but Sam constantly declined. Stupid fuck!

 

When Sam snapped at him at the last intersection, Dean pulled the black Impala off to the side of the road, and slammed the gearshift into Park. Snarling, he turned to look at his little brother.

 

“What the hell crawled up your ass?”

 

“**My** ass? Oh that’s precious coming from Mr. Personality,” Sam snapped typing the coordinates into the laptop. “If we don’t keep going, we’ll lose her and you’ll spend another night bitching to me about it, so can we just go please?”

 

“Something’s eating at you and we gotta clear the air now, Sammy. Before you say something else that pisses me off and makes me kill you myself,” Dean said slapping the back of Sam’s head.

 

“Fuck you,” Sam hissed slapping Dean back. “You don’t want this.”

 

“Oh… so THAT’s how it is?” Dean grunted stepping out of the car. He ran around to yank Sam out of the seat. The laptop fell on the floorboard as Sammy hurled himself at Dean. Sam flailed, his fists flying. Rolling to the ground, Dean pinned Sammy, his forearm pressing against his collarbone.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Sammy?” Dean yelled in his brother’s face.

 

“Get off me, Dean!” Sam snarled, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw his brother off.

 

“Just leave me the hell alone!” He whined, turning his face away as Dean’s eyes widened. Dean’s gaze followed lower until he was staring between their bodies at his little brother’s thick bulge.

 

~*~

 

Shoving Dean off, Sam rolled away. He stood, wiping the dust from the seat of his jeans.

 

_How fucking humiliating! Why couldn’t Dean just let shit go?_

 

“Look Sam, I know we’re close…” Dean said stepping toward him. He cautiously approached his brother, his eyes downcast, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“What?” Sam winced. “You don’t think… I didn’t just get…”

 

“Well, I got a rise outta ya,” Dean said nodding at Sam’s crotch. “I’m just saying that…”

 

“You’re a real asshole, you know that? This isn’t about you,” Sam growled. “I’m… I’m grieving, alright?” he asked, arms spread wide.

 

“Grieving?” Dean asked with a raised brow. “That’s one hell of a way to grieve, little brother. Most people just wear the black veil and uncomfortable shoes. Shit Sammy, she’s been gone…”

 

“I know how fucking long she’s been gone Dean, I don’t need you to remind me. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t… FUCK!”

 

“Well, **that’s** obvious! Sorry—sorry! Look man, if you need to just… pull one off, you know,” Dean said, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck again.

 

Sam pulled a face before turning to walk back to the car. “Just leave me alone.”

 

The trail grew cold and they drove back to the motel in silence.

 

 

~*~

 

 

“Look, I can step outside, let you have your what… five, six minutes?” Dean asked when he noticed Sam miserably adjusting himself.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and continued reading their father’s journal. “There has to be something in here,” Sam said flipping the pages quickly.

 

“About busting a nut?” Dean asked horrified.

 

“About the Wendigo, nut sac!”

 

“Hey, I wouldn’t speak ill of them, you know,” Dean replied gripping his crotch to adjust himself. “It’s how problems like yours start, you know. Next thing you know, you’re popping Viagra and wondering if the 36-hour erection commercials were right.” Scowling he stepped toward the door.

 

“Look,” Dean said turning to face his brother, “you have to do something Sammy, I’m not going to die because of your dick, it’s not gonna happen.” Dean whispered, looking away from Sam.

 

“Like I’m going to be able to do anything with you on the other side of the door,” Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

 

“There’s always the busty blonde,” Dean answered, waggling his eyebrows. “I bet she’s into facials.”

 

“Arrggh,” Sam exhaled. “I’m going to take a hot shower.”

 

“I’ll just… you know… not be on the other side of the door, ok?” Dean said quickly, stepping out of the motel room.

 

Rolling his eyes, Sam shuffled toward the bathroom. He rolled his neck and cracked his back as he went. Turning on the taps, he stripped slowly. He let the steam rise in the small room before stepping under the scalding water. The water slid down his back, his palms flat on the tiled wall. Sam relaxed as his head drooped, watching the water run down his body.

 

Sighing, he gripped his aching prick and stroked it from base to tip. Determined to get somewhere this time, he lifted his leg to reach the sensitive spot behind his sac with his middle finger. He bit his lip as he slid his hand over his balls to wrap it around his swelling cock.

 

As Sam tried to relax, he pictured Jessica, her golden hair fanned across the pillow. Her body lithe and sweet and on display for him. Twisting his hand on the upstroke, he stood up straight to get a better angle. Lifting his head, he felt the hot water run down his head and back.

 

Something was wrong. He was anxious. The image of Jess on the bed was gone. When he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, he found her there, body engulfed in flames, the silent scream etched in her face. Sam dry-heaved as his stomach turned. Slamming his fists against the tile, he groaned in frustration, a low, wailing ‘noooo’ resonating against the tiled wall.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Dean checked his pockets for the keys to the Impala, cursing as he realized he’d have to double back to the room where his little brother was hopefully blowing a load all over the shower stall. The thought grossed him out a bit, but if it meant having Sammy back and ready to go, then… _whatever man!_

 

He meant to make some noise. To alert Sam that he’d returned, but the sounds from the shower silenced him in curiosity. Standing beside the closed door, he pressed his ear to the wall. Dean could hear Sam’s heavy panting, the water sloshing from what he imagined was Sam’s hand sliding back and forth against his…

 

_What the fuck was he doing? _

Throwing his head against the opposite wall, Dean took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the inviting sounds his brother was making. He had pictured what Sam looked like in that shower, the water running down his body, his hand…

 

“Fuck! I gotta get outta here,” he whispered looking for the keys.

 

The wailing moan stopped him dead. Hearing the pain in that throaty cry, Dean did what he always did. He rushed in to save his little brother.

 

Sam stood in the shower with the curtain open, his head thrown back. One hand was wrapped around his wilting cock, as the other fisted his hair. He was biting his lip with tears streaming down his cheeks, his body red and steaming. He looked so beautiful and so lost.

 

Stepping into the shower fully clothed, Dean swatted Sam’s hand away. Wrapping one callused hand around the base of his cock, Dean gripped Sam’s neck with the other.

 

“What the… Dean,” Sam whined. “What are you… Dean stop!”

 

“Just shut up,” Dean hissed, his face turned away from Sam’s, his hand pumping his brother’s cock fast and fierce. “Just let go,” he added through clenched teeth.

 

“Dean… Dean, I can’t,” Sam moaned. “Please don’t… oh fuck Dean…” he panted, reaching for Dean’s soaked jeans. Sam made quick work of the snap, shoving his hand inside the wet denim to pull Dean’s cock free. Dean just fisted and pumped Sam’s cock faster.

 

Shuddering, Sam lowered his head to Dean’s shoulder, groaning as he matched his brother’s movements on his cock. Dean’s thick prick twitched in his hand and Sam looked up to find Dean’s eyes closed, his head thrown back in pleasure. Stepping forward, Sam slid one hand behind Dean’s neck and brought their foreheads together until they were gasping and panting open-mouthed against each other.

 

Sam shuddered as his cock pulsed. With a loud moan, he bucked his hips against Dean’s fist, and came hard enough to throw white spots dancing across his vision. Dean’s name escaped in an almost rumbling groan. Dean’s orgasm followed soon after, thrusting against Sam’s hand with an almost inaudible ‘fuck’ half-groaned/half-moaned as he coated Sam’s hand in spunk.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Neither spoke that night. Words were not exchanged and looks were not shared.

 

When the Wendigo corralled herself in an abandoned warehouse in the small town, Sam and Dean Winchester approached the dilapidated building armed to the hilt. With a sawed-off shotgun draped over one shoulder and the 44 tucked safely against his lower back, Dean kicked the door in. He quickly fired two rounds into the inky blackness; but it Sam who brought down the beast. As the snarling bitch pounced from her perch above the door, Sam swiveled. Sliding Dean’s 44 from the small holster he fired several rounds into the mangled face.

 

~*~

 

“What next?” Sam asked sliding into the Impala’s passenger seat.

 

“Whatever comes,” Dean replied cheekily turning up the volume to blast _Back in Black_.


End file.
